Heichi Suru Prelude Story
by Wends
Summary: [Gundam W:Gundam F91 cross] A mysterious red vessel plows into X18999. What does this spell for the future of the Gundam Wing pilots? [rated for violence, squiggy scenes of torture, language]
1. Chapter 1

A/N 1: This chapter is by the original author (Andy Lomelli - the rest of his works are archived on the homepage he and I built together, which I currently still maintain with his intermittent assistance), who I spoke to concerning this fic – as he's lost the motivation to write anything more, he's given me his detailed plans of where the plot was going. This story was originally to be a prelude that he wished to write before the story proper, which was to be a cooperative fic between the two of us. We started this over five years ago, and it simmered and died while we got on with life.

Upon reading this first chapter of the planned 6 chapter prelude story, I decided that it had enough potential to resurrect. He agreed, but didn't agree to write it. So now it's mine with his permission.

This first chapter is entirely his – I just did some light editing. I hope that you R/R and give me the motivation to continue with this work that came so very close to death. It, later in its planned form, is very AU and fun, featuring plenty of humor, strange aliens, horribly complicated political structures and racial interactions, detailed worlds and colonies that are all original, and (to my vast terror) real science backing up most of what seems to be utter fiction dominating this thing (I'm using the same science I've been researching to write my original novel, which has been stalled for a like amount of time).

Enjoy, and please review!

_-BEGIN NOTES (from original author)-_

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gundam W or Gundam F-91. I simply use the characters for my stories. These are entirely non-profit (like anyone would pay me for 'em… (laughs)), and are created solely for the enjoyment of myself and those who are willing to read my ramblings. Therefore, please don't attempt to sue me.

ADDITIONAL NOTES: For those of you who don't know about the Gundam F-91 setting, it follows the setup presented in the 0079/0080/0083/etc. universe. HOWEVER, don't consider this grounds for going "Oh gee, I'm not gonna understand any of this" and not reading the fic. I'm writing this as a GUNDAM WING fanfic, NOT a Gundam F-91 fanfic (as Gundam F-91 was too much of a suck-ass bomb to bother ficcing), and therefore everything that you need to know will be explained in due time. I just liked the artwork, nearly unbeatable animation, battle scenes, and mecha design in F-91 which, frankly, were fuckin' incredible – pity it didn't make up for the rest of the movie, which was so sad I don't even want to include it in my anime archive. (Thank god I rented it and didn't waste my money with the purchase.)

EXTRA WARNINGS: This, of course, is an Alternate Universe fic – mostly for the F-91 bit. Gundam W bit doesn't count as AU as it's placed in 198 AC and pretty much follows what all happened before without fluxes or variations. FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW F-91, let me now explain where I get the AU dictate. We all will remember the MA I'm going to be using. If you don't know what MA stands for, you haven't watched anything other than Gundam W, so please don't pretend to understand (grin). Anyway, what if this MA in addition to the spiffy, unique and overly powerful neo-psycommu system that it holds also held one helluvan A-I system (like XXXG-01SR did in GW) that just never allowed to surface because ol' (ahem… you expect me to give away the pilot name now? (VEG) Dream on. Read the fic.), our resident villain and hard-ass jerk, was the pilot? And, instead of being destroyed in its conflict with the infamous (heh… I'll tell you the name of the MS later), was actually damaged heavily (leaving convincing amounts of debris to support that it'd been destroyed) but managed to fire every rocket it had (think about the number of thrusters and how much power they flaunt – we're talkin' fuckin' flyin' away in the blink of an eye, dude) and escaped into space/time, somehow being warped across dimensions? (blink blink) I know I just made next to no sense, or made perfect sense. (VEG) And… what if that artificially-intelligent neo-psycommu system sporting MA drifted for countless years, its pilot having been killed by the blast that "destroyed" it (at least according to official FFSNRI records on the other side), in the GW universe…?

Yes, I'd had a bit to drink when I came up with this psychotic idea. But it stuck with me through the next day, meaning it was a worthy fic idea – at least in my own mind, that is. (grin)

And on with the story!))

-----

_Begin function: Update ship log  
Run log  
Program initiated  
Begin data input  
Date: UC 0154.07.14  
Location: Unknown  
Ship: XMA-01  
Ship condition: 03.001 operational  
Pilot: File 0498 NT (Karozo)  
Terminate log entry  
Log entry termination verified  
Log saved successfully_

The dome of the cockpit dimmed as the blue screen before the dead pilot's face flickered out of existence. After a few moments, light blue letters flared to life before the man's wide-open eye-sockets upon the blackened, cracked glass that was the heads-up display.

_New information acquired  
Habitable planet located  
Distance to planet: 2,005,921.779 km (1,126,932.065 mi)_

The letters remained upon the screen for a few moments as the cursor blinked. They vanished, replaced by another message.

_XMA-01 suggestion to Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): Dock and inquire about nearest Crossbone Vangard installation location_

The letters remained for a few more moments before fading and being replaced once more.

_XMA-01 operational status (adjusted): 02.989 operational  
Hull breech located  
84.000 tentacle rods destroyed – replacement necessary (105 TRs destroyed)  
65.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged –inoperable, reparable (13 TRs damaged)  
100.000 mega particle cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (5 MPCs damaged)__  
80.000 mega beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 MBCs damaged)  
25.000 beam cannons destroyed – replacement necessary (1 BC destroyed)__  
50.000 scattering beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 SBCs damaged)__  
55.000 apogee motors damaged – inoperable, reparable (22 AMs damaged)__  
50.000 remaining apogee motors damaged – operable, reparable (9 AMs damaged)__  
WARNING: Firing 9 damaged operable AMs may result in irreparable damage to AMs__  
Danger – fuel level at minimum (0.013)__  
Danger – generator damaged__  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.940)__  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.921)__  
Danger – generator output decrease will result in life-support termination__  
Danger – life-support termination estimated to occur in 171 seconds__  
Danger – generator output and time until life-support termination recalculated__  
Danger – new time until estimated life-support termination: 83 seconds__  
Recommend docking immediately__  
Reason: severity of damages reducing operational capabilities of XMA-01__  
Reason: severity of damage risk to continued existence of Pilot (File 0498 NT(Karozo))__  
Awaiting pilot command_

The report remained for a minute, then flickered away. The crack in the screen widened and lengthened as the temperature within the cockpit changed with the emergence of the floating, lifeless ship into intense starlight and warmth.

The ship's computer hummed softly as the dome of the cockpit lit with gentle turquoise light.

_Life support system inoperable – reparable__  
Oxygen level of cockpit: 1.003 (10.000 recommended minimum, 40.000 preferred)__  
Bio-scan of Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) initiated__  
Heart rate output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000__  
Breath rate output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000__  
Brainwave output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000__  
Psychowave output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000_

The cursor blinked for a few moments.

_Data analyzed  
Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) deceased  
Reason: Bodily fluid boiled due to overheating of cockpit from enemy assault  
Reason: Bodily fluid levels low due to dehydration – rations/liquids low (0.000)  
Reason: Starvation from calculated 31 years in space without rations/liquids  
Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) status updated  
XMA-01 error recorded (Pilot status must be kept current)  
XMA-01 adjusting programming  
Adjustment completed: New parameters installed  
New parameters initiated  
New parameters: 1. Scan will be performed daily rather than upon pilot inactivity  
New parameters: 2. Scan will be performed at 00:00 before automated backup is run_

The message erased. A chart depicting the surrounding space outside of the ship flashed into being, along with arrows and numbers.

_Generator output rerouted to CPU for CPU preservation  
Generator output to life-support system terminated  
Reason: life-support system damaged – inoperable, reparable  
Reason: Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) deceased  
Course calculated  
Course trajectory to be determined by gravitational pull of planetary objects  
Computer system backup initiated  
Backup complete  
XMA-01 shutdown initiated for energy conservation  
Pilot confirmation required  
Requesting confirmation for shutdown procedures_

_OK?_

The cursor blinked for a few moments as the computer awaited confirmation before blacking out. The cockpit fell into darkness as the monitor screens which till this time had been displaying the surrounding stars and the steadily approaching blue planet ahead turned off.

The beaten, battered ship floated without direction or power.

Somewhere, deep within its processors, one computation remained lividly burned upon its boards: _Lonely._

-----

The year was After Colony 198. The day was November 23rd. It was a bright and glorious Monday.

The peaceful atmosphere that was achieved and formed at the end of the Mariemaia/Dekim incident and the kidnapping of Ms. Relena Dorlain was holding strong, supported by the Preventer Intelligence Agency and the citizens of the Earth Sphere United Nation. Things were pleasant and clear everywhere – being the middle of fall (or spring, depending on which hemisphere and which colony one was inhabiting at the time), the weather was nice. Not to hot, not to cold. Everyone was living peaceful, happy lives. Trade was going well. The economy hadn't seen such wondrous health in eons. Business was going stupendously well for most everyone.

And on this gleeful day, a beautiful silvery shuttle was blasting its way towards the X-18999 colony construction site at LaGrange point 3.

The inhabitant of that particular shuttle was staring out the window, his brows furrowed despite the general happiness of the situation the world and universe were in at the moment, his lips turned in a frown, his mind cursing the nauseating narrative of how wonderful things were these days that continuously poured from the TV monitor ahead, dribbling from the anchorwoman's lips like drool from a bulldog's mouth.

Quatre Raberba Winner, for some reason, was not a happy camper.

Business was going well enough. Indeed, his sisters had managed to do naught but increase the already ridiculously formidable wealth of the Winner family's private estate and business. Operations were going smoothly. He had no reason to worry about things on the home front.

He hadn't had to do anything so far as the Preventers were concerned in over a month – no treatise negotiations, no terrorist threats, no investigations, no playing the "shoot me; I'm your target-practice. I'm a peace negotiator," game. No problems there.

So what could be troubling him?

His eyes narrowed as he caught site of what had been roosting itself upon his brain, and he hissed quietly.

"So they weren't exaggerating."

The large crumpled mass of what may have once been a bright red ship rested firmly in the middle of the construction site ahead, glittering in the sunlight. Workers were already milling around, pointing at the ruby-colored lump as the Winner's shuttle drifted into view, apparently signaling that they couldn't do any work with the debris present. Others were clambering all over the mound of scrap metal, peering over it with curiosity.

There was no feasible way that anything productive would be happening any time soon.

Quatre shook his head, quietly asking Allah to give him the patience he'd need to get through the removal of the obstacle without ripping someone's head off.

Setting the shuttle neatly down upon a hastily cleared landing pad, Quatre grumbled quiet cursed to himself as he pulled his airtight flight-suit's helmet into place and flipped the switch on the oxygen machine strapped to his back into the 'on' position. Taking one step towards the door, letting the lack of gravitational pull upon the still colony's surface take him upon his journey, he closed his eyes and punched the button to open the airlock. Stepping free of the shuttle, he drifted towards the erected lifeline and grabbed onto it. Shimmying down to the surface of the colony, letting the magnetic bottoms of his flight-suit's shoes grip the metal flooring, he marched purposefully towards the foreman of colony construction, a sour look upon his face and what could only be described as murder in his eyes.

The foreman gulped as the shorter man approached, then bowed politely. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Quatre-sama."

Standing before the man, Quatre sighed and plastered on as happy of a face as he could manage. "No problem, Frankie. So, why…."

"Your sisters told me that you would be the best person to assist us with this."

"Oh really?"

"Hai, Quatre-sama."

Quatre frowned. "But I'm not…"

The foreman nodded. "I know you've left the business in the hands of your sisters. However, they informed me that this would be Preventer business rather than simple debris removal, due to the fact that we don't know what this thing is or where it came from, and that you of all Preventers would be most sympathetic to our causes, as this is your family's business…."

Quatre nodded. What the foreman was saying was quite true.

Continuing, Frankie sighed. "They told me that you would be the best person to take care of this as you not only have affiliations with the Preventers but also have pull with the community around Winner Industries. Lady Une supported such when I spoke with her. I do apologize for removing you from your prior tasks…."

With a shrug, the Arab sighed. "Doesn't much matter. Just monitoring the Terreform project. Zechs can watch that while I'm away." Then, glancing over at the wreckage, he sighed. "Just give me an hour or so to get the paperwork for recording this faxed to me. Get me into your office. I need to make a few phone calls."

"Hai, Quatre-sama."

-----

All was still within the ship.

That is, until the silvery shuttle had landed and its inhabitant exited the craft.

The whir of the damaged computer's attempt to restart filled the cockpit. With a few clicks and rattles, the hard drives finally spun.

The cracked main monitor flickered to life, displaying the outside world around the vessel.

_Begin function: Update ship log  
Run log  
Program initiated  
Begin data input  
Date: UC 0154.07.15  
Location: Unknown  
Ship: XMA-01  
Ship condition: 01.023 operational  
Pilot: File 0498 NT (Karozo) (deceased)_

Hull breech located Second hull breech located Fuel leak located 

_Fuel tank breech located_  
_84.000 tentacle rods destroyed – replacement necessary (105 TRs destroyed)  
75.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged – inoperable, reparable (15 TRs damaged)_  
_60.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged – operable, reparable (3 TRs damaged)__  
WARNING: Using 3 damaged operable TRs may result in irreparable damage to TRs_  
_100.000 mega particle cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (5 MPCs damaged)  
80.000 mega beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 MBCs damaged)_  
_25.000 beam cannons destroyed – replacement necessary (1 BC destroyed)  
33.333 remaining beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (1 BC damaged)  
50.000 remaining beam cannons damaged – operable, reparable (1 BC damaged)  
WARNING: Using 1 damaged operable BC may result in irreparable damage to BC  
50.000 scattering beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 SBCs damaged)  
15.000 apogee motors destroyed – replacement necessary (6 AMs destroyed)  
50.000 remaining apogee motors damaged – inoperable, reparable (18 AMs damaged)  
55.555 remaining apogee motors damaged – operable, reparable (10 AMs damaged)  
WARNING: Firing 10 damaged operable AMs may result in irreparable damage to AMs  
Danger – fuel level at minimum (0.000)  
Danger – generator damaged  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.811)  
Terminate log entry  
Log entry termination verified  
Log saved successfully_

The log entry vanished from the screen. The computer clicked and whirred. Moments later, a series of red lines began to flow over the shattered monitor screens, slowly and steadily creating a linear pattern overlaying the world that surrounded the battered ship.

_Scanning surrounding area _

The screen flickered as yet another crack widened. The image of the outside world became still as the computer snapped the shot for study.

_Life forms identified__  
Homo sapiens sapiens_

The screen flickered again, and the image was lost. The monitors crackled and split. A hazy image appeared on the beaten screens, displaying the outside world once more as relayed by the ship's cameras. People were crawling over the massive red heap, using blowtorches in an attempt to cut the vessel apart to more easily remove it from the construction site it had slammed into.

_Danger eminent Threat to XMA-01 identified__  
Engaging ion shield_

As the men outside screamed and dropped their tools as they fell into spasms and convulsions from the large surge of electricity that shot through their bodies, the ship resumed its scanning.

_Location unknown__  
Cross-referencing star charts for location identification__  
No match with star charts found__  
Star charts invalid__  
Scanning corresponding planet__  
Cross-referencing Planetary identification files for location identification__  
Match found: Earth__  
Scanning dock__  
Cross-referencing Registered Dock List for dock identification__  
No match with Registered Dock List found__  
Dock not registered in Registered Dock List__  
Cross-referencing Side maps for location identification__  
No match with Side maps found__  
Side maps invalid__  
Scanning personnel__  
Cross-referencing Personnel Registration files for identification__  
No match with Personnel Registration files__  
Personnel Registration files invalid__  
Scanning personnel uniforms__  
Cross-referencing Uniform Issue files for identification__  
No match with Uniform Issue files found__  
Uniform Issue files invalid__  
Conclusion reached: Personnel are not Crossbone Vanguard employed__  
Conclusion reached: Dock is not a Crossbone Vanguard installation__  
Conclusion reached: Location is planet Earth__  
Conclusion reached: Planet Earth is not located in known space__  
Conclusion reached: True location unknown_

The computer remained silent for a few moments as if attempting to analyze the data it had just printed. The cursor overlaying the image of the outside world blinked as the ship pondered as best as it could ponder what it had recorded.

_Problem: Planet Earth is not located in known space__  
Problem: Dock is not a Crossbone Vanguard installation__  
Problem: Uniforms of personnel are unknown__  
Problem: Organization of personnel employment is unknown__  
Problem: XMA-01 location unknown_

Hard drives whirred. The crackle of a loose, bare wire connecting with metal shot through the still atmosphere. The smell of hot titanium filled the air.

_Problem: Pilot (File 0498 (Karozo)) deceased  
Problem: Pilot unable to question personnel located on dock  
Reason: Deceased_

A small spark burst into life in the cockpit, but quickly vanished.

_Solution: XMA-01 needs to communicate with personnel located on dock  
Problem: XMA-01 designed to communicate with Homo sapiens newtype  
Problem: XMA-01 contains no input devices for Homo sapiens sapiens  
Problem: Homo sapiens sapiens can not communicate with XMA-01 CPU  
Reason: CPU communication media Neo-Psycommu System  
Problem: Homo sapiens sapiens can not use Neo-Psycommu System  
Solution: Locate Homo sapiens newtype_

The monitors flickered again. The image became distorted and fuzzy.

_Problem: __– generator damaged  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.585)  
Generator will not support CPU activity once output is below 0.500  
Problem: CPU activity necessary to scan for Homo sapiens newtype  
Problem: XMA-01 location unknown_

After a few moments, all the monitors save the main one in front turned off.

_Generator output to monitors rerouted for CPU preservation  
Generator output to monitors terminated  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.564)_

The cursor blinked as the message vanished. One mysterious message flashed across the singular live monitor.

_Worried_

-----

Quatre grumbled as he hung up the phone for the seventh time that afternoon. Glancing over at the fax machine, he suppressed a sigh as yet more paperwork flowed from it.

Picking up the cover sheet, he sneered as he read the message.

'Dear Quatre, please enjoy this little task. I'm certain you can have it finished by this evening, riiiiight? Identify the ship if possible, along with make, year, and weaponry sported if any. Thanks, babe! Lucrenzia Noin.

'PS: Don't blame me. It's Lady Une that wants all this information."

He groaned quietly.

"Geez. All of this for one wrecked ship? Fifty three pages of ridiculous paperwork."

Sighing once more, he picked up the first sheet and looked it over.

"Vessel identification number. Vessel length. Vessel type. Vessel coloration. Sketch of vessel. Vessel name. Vessel pilot. Vessel specs. Vessel weaponry. Vessel thrusters."

Groan.

"Location of vessel. Include street name and lot number? Oh, give me a break!"

Grunt.

"Vessel configuration? Vessel plan map? Yeesh! It'd be easier to pack it into an envelope and mail it to headquarters!"

Roll eyes.

"Allah, give me patience…. Allah, give me patience…. Allah, give me patience…."

Stomping out of the office with the first ten sheets of paper in his hand, he grumbled.

Stomping back into the office, he grabbed a pencil and his cell phone.

Stomping back out of the office, he lifted the cell phone to the port in his helmet by his ear as it rang, quickly connecting the wire that ran from its mouthpiece to the small plug at the front of the device that saved him from the vacuum of space.

"Hello, this is Quatre."

On the other end, a chipper voice rang. "Ya ho! Duo here!"

"Hey, Duo."

"So, where the hell are you?"

"X18999."

"Checking out the wreck?"

"Yep."

"By the thrusters?"

"Um… yeah. Where are you, by the way?"

"By the cockpit door. Come and meet us, will you?"

"Hai, hai."

With that, Quatre hung up the phone and sighed.

He was getting more annoyed by the moment.

First, stripped from his original duties and the free time he was planning to have that evening to spend with a particular someone. Next, given a stack of next-to-needless paperwork to record next-to-worthless information on. And now, Duo was here.

Not that he minded that last observation, of course. At least not usually.

However, today was just the kind of day where anything and everything got on Quatre's nerves.

Snorting, he stomped his way around the wrecked ship, glowering at his paperwork. Doesn't Lady Une trust me enough to complete this myself? Nooooo, she's got to send Duo. And by that little reference to 'us' that he made, I'll bet anything that Heero's here, too. Shaking his head, he continued to stomp on, his mind only partially on the paperwork in his hands. And Wufei, too. And probably Trowa… For a moment, he closed his eyes in concentration. Yep. Trowa too. Probably don't trust me to finish this up myself… gah… when will they learn that I'm an independent, able human being that doesn't need to be babysat for his entire li… hold that thought. There they are. Happy face time. Quatre lifted his face, opened his eyes, and flashed his typical ambiguous smile. "Konichiwa, minna-san!"

"Hey, Quatre!" Duo called, waving from his place beside the figure that, by his stance and the fact that the helmeted head was turned to face the damaged craft along with the bounding violet eyed teenager, Quatre identified as Heero.

"So, he finally arrives," a nasal voice snorted, though the tone was less condescending than it was humored.

"Hello to you too, Wufei," Quatre replied, turning slightly to face the Chinese pilot.

"Any idea what this thing is?"

Looking up, Quatre found himself smirking as his gaze fell upon Trowa who was hovering right above one of the open flaps of the ship, holding himself in place with a lifeline that had been installed for the workers who were previously attempting to dismember the craft.

"Actually, I was intending on asking you the same question, Trowa."

The green-eyed boy jerked himself along the line, sending himself floating gently down to the ground. Clicking down with his magnetic boots, he stood beside the shorter blond and returned his gaze to the vessel.

Duo, meanwhile, walked over, arm slung around Heero's shoulders. "So, you get Noin's fax alright?"

"Yeah, all fifty three pages of it," Quatre sighed, waving the first few before his friend. "It'd be easier just to haul the thing to headquarters and examine it there."

Marching over, Wufei arched a brow as he listened in to the conversation. "May not be a bad idea. Do you want me to relay that to Une?"

"Sure, go right ahead."

Nodding, the Asian tapped the communicator control band strapped to the wrist of his suit and changed frequencies.

Quatre, meanwhile, had turned his attention back to the ship. "Huh. Identify the ship, eh?"

"Can you make heads or tails of that thing?" Duo questioned, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I thought I knew my space crafts. I have no fucking clue what this thing is, though."

"Looks almost like Mobil Armor, save that it's far too large…" Heero muttered.

"Mobil Armor…" Quatre repeated.

"Hai. Like the transformed mode of Epyon, Wing, and Wing Zero."

"Heero, I think Quatre knows what Mobil Armor is."

"Hn."

Quatre ignored his companions. Instead, he stared at the vessel. Mobil Armor… wonder if Heero's right. If he is… what is it doing here…? And who sent it?"

Wufei cut in on his thoughts. "Lady Une said that if you wish to have the craft transported, you can't include it as a Preventer charge. And you must confirm that it's vacated."

"Hm. Very well."

Trowa nodded as Quatre voiced his consent. "Only thing is, Quatre, that thing is electrified. A good number of the workers who were attempting to dismantle it received serious shocks."

"Really?" Glancing over, Quatre arched a brow.

"Yep," Duo chimed in, shaking his head. "Weirdest thing I ever did see. They were cutting away just fine without difficulty. Then, next thing you know, there's this 'ZAP' and they all topple off of it like flies off a bug zapper, twitching and spazing."

"It was almost as if the ship was attempting to defend itself," Trowa muttered, rubbing along the rim of his space helmet right below where his chin would have been if the headgear hadn't been present.

"Such would require that a CPU be activated and a pilot be present to give the order," Heero grunted.

"Or it has an automated system that could activate a shield upon detection of a possible attack," Wufei commented with a shrug. "Which would mean that there wouldn't have to be a pilot present."

"But the ship's computer would still need to be active," Duo stated, nodding.

"Of course," Quatre confirmed with a sigh.

"Which leads us to the problem of confirming whether or not a pilot is present," Wufei sighed, shaking his head. "Getting into that ship is going to be tough if there is indeed an electrical shield around it."

"Can't you just wear an insulation suit?" Duo questioned, arching a brow.

"Might work," Heero said with a nod.

Quatre simply walked over to the vessel and stared at the door. "Even with a rubber suit to be able to touch this thing, you'd still need an access panel, control pad, key slot, or something to open this door. There isn't one here."

"What?" four voices rang in unison.

"There's no way to open this door from the outside," Quatre clarified.

Trowa walked over to his side, and stared with amazement. "He's right, guys. There's no way to open this door."

"Then how the hell is a pilot supposed to get in there?" Duo quipped.

"Who the hell knows," Quatre grumbled, rubbing his head.

-----

The computer whirred as the five Gundam pilots came into view on the cracked monitor screen. Red lines criss-crossed over their images.

_Bio-scan initiated_

The red lines vanished from over Heero, Duo and Trowa. Wufei and Quatre, however, remained illuminated.

_Psychowave scan initiated  
Psychowave output analyzed  
Suitable psychowave output registered_

The image changed, zooming in on one person. The computer circled the one helmeted person.

_Homo sapiens newtype located  
Opening cockpit_

The sun's light slowly filled the cockpit as the door cracked open.

Quatre's image remained emblazoned on the screen.

_To Be Continued  
now in the hands of Wends..._


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to those who reviewed. The writing style between chapters 1 and 2 might be noticeably different – I am attempting to stick with the original spirit of this Prelude story, but as I am not the original author there will probably be some variations. At least you readers can have confidence in the fact that I know where the plot is going and I will not deviate from the wishes of the original author (no matter how strange they were). 

BTW, I can't really get too far into F-91. I never watched it – he frightened me by wandering around with a zombified expression on his face mumbling 'F-91' over and over and proclaiming that it sucked terribly. (shudder) Five years, and I still remember that! So F-91, seeing as how I have never seen it and intend to never ever watch it, is going to be cast merrily aside. I'll be using the net for my information about the 'other side' of Gundam (aka: the original universe), so if there's any inaccuracies, inform me so I can fix them! (prostrates herself before the Gundam knowledgeable of the universe, as she's a strict 'winger)

Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam W. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

The battered computer's hard disks whirred and whined as the popping of overloaded circuits filled the dark silence, beating away the quiet with their racket. The cockpit door ground painfully upon its tracks, the slight warping and denting caused by the combined effects of the mobile armor's last battle over thirty years ago and its more recent crash making its journey a near impossibility. Sticking once, overstressed motors whining piteously, the door creaked and squealed loudly as it was forcibly reeled past a particularly severe bend in its metal sheath before it slammed solidly into its hollowed resting area within the ship's otherwise solid and thick titanium walls.

_Cockpit access granted__  
Deactivate ion shield_  
_Reason: Allow entry of Homo Sapiens Newtype  
Reason: Preservation of generator power for Neo-Psycommu System__  
Reason: Neo-Psycommu System necessary for communication with Homo Sapiens Newtype_

The spark of an instantly appearing and instantly extinguished electrical fire flickered within the copious panels that lined the small cockpit, the flames' heat stolen and terminated by the vacuum that now flooded the vessel's interior owing to its opened door. Power was swiftly rerouted from the ion shield generators to the overwrought CPU.

The computer continued its work, its few remaining sensors tracing the movements of those within their exceptionally limited range as it redirected power as necessary to maintain continuous operation of the vast system. As heavy boots silently tapped upon the cockpit's steel floor, the lone monitor before the ship's previous pilot's dead skull flickered with static as the image it had saved was eliminated and a simple request was posted.

_Establish contact_

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Everyone had thought he was crazy.

At that point, Quatre was beginning to doubt his own sanity. After all, he was marching straight into an unknown situation with no weaponry, no clue as to what he could expect, and the trigger-shy ex-pilot of Wing Gundam who'd vowed to never again kill leading his way for protection's sake.

However with such inexplicable occurrences as what had just occurred his insatiable curiosity had risen from the abysmal depths to which he usually assigned it. He had to answer the questions that were racing about his mind.

'Why did the cockpit door just open?'

'Why did the electrical field the ship had been maintaining suddenly vanish, evident by the fact that Cid there just experimentally touched it with the end of his insulated screwdriver and didn't have it repelled into his facemask again?'

'Is that thing occupied?'

'Is this an invitation?'

Quatre had taken his first initial steps towards the red wreckage when Duo's voice instantly flooded through the speakers within his helmet. "Neh, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to check it out," Quatre simply replied, his voice carried to the other personnel who shared his communication frequency within their helmets and the small computers that drove the close-range system. A sigh bled over the small microphone within his spacesuit's helmet, overpowering the constant soft hissing of the oxygen tank's emissions and his quiet breathing. "After all, we have to confirm the vacancy of that vessel if we're to move it, right?"

"It could well be occupied," Heero's dry voice commented. "I will precede you into the vessel. It does not appear that you remembered to bring your gun."

"I'm not overly concerned, Heero," Quatre muttered. "I don't suspect it's occupied."

"Then why would it open?" Duo asked, his glove-encased right hand lightly tapping fingertips upon the mouthpiece of his voluminous helmet. "Automated system? If so, it should've opened for anyone who approached instead of making like the universe's ugliest bug-zapper."

"Let Heero escort you in. It would be foolish to relinquish his offered aid," Wufei simply said, his onyx eyes focused on the blonde before he glanced down at the prominent panel fixed to his spacesuit's right arm and opened a small panel on the left side of his helmet. "Excuse me, but Lady Une is calling back. I'm changing frequencies."

Quatre nodded to Wufei before glancing over to Trowa. "Well then, shall we take a look inside?"

"After you," the taller youth said even as his eyes retained their focus on the mysterious ship.

Heero's helmet bobbed with his nod of approval even as he removed his ever-trusted 10mm pistol from the Velcro pocket on his right thigh. Quickly chambering a bullet, the battle-hardened youth stepped with caution in his gait towards the red mass that rested in its funeral pyre of twisted metal and shattered glass. Quatre nearly stood upon his heels, keeping his frame as close to that of the agitation-stiffened soldier who led his way.

Together, they stepped into the cockpit of the small vessel.

Quatre glanced about, his eyes wide behind the facemask of his helmet even as Duo's voice came over the speakers by his ears, berating him for being a crazy fool and marching merrily to whatever doom was awaiting him. Trowa's voice quickly cut the irate boy out.

"Is it occupied?" the tallest of the gathering's teens quietly questioned, his voice smooth and hard, its lack of any inflection lending towards the true worry that lay under his monotonous tone.

Taking in the sight of that which occupied the singular seat before him, the initial response to gasp in disgust was overridden as it might worry his companions outside. Quatre instead chose to sigh sadly into his microphone. "It's occupied, but I doubt this person would mind us relocating the vessel. It's been dead for quite some time."

Heero was almost instantaneously kneeling before the seat, a critical gleam in his Prussian blue eyes. "I don't recognize the uniform," he informed those who stood outside of the cockpit. "Not the make of OZ, the Alliance, Mariemaia's gathering, or any terrorist group on the Preventer Database."

Soon the piteous light that slid past the cockpit's lone door was blocked by yet another figure. Trowa squeezed himself into the confined space, glancing about with wide green eyes. "Interesting," was his only comment.

Quatre had turned his attention away from the macabre skeleton with its eternally pained screaming jaws and empty eye-sockets to focus instead on the one fractured screen that flickered with static and a singular message.

"Establish contact?" he read, arching one golden brow. "What the heck?"

Trowa was soon at Quatre's side as Heero occupied himself with searching the dead pilot's uniform for any form of identification it could be carrying within its pockets. Laying a hand upon Quatre's shoulder, the ex-Heavyarms pilot frowned. "It's obvious the pilot didn't leave this message for you. An automated system, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Quatre pondered. "However, I doubt that."

Glancing down, the brunette arched a brow himself. "Why?"

"Because there's a presence here. It wants me to communicate with it. I just don't know how."

Both Trowa and Quatre stared, eyes widened in surprise, as the screen suddenly changed its message.

_Establish communication via Neo-Psycommu System.  
Reason: XMA-01 necessitates information.  
Reason: XMA-01 Neo-Psycommu System compatibility limited to Homo Sapiens Newtype  
Problem: Homo Sapiens Newtype has not established communication with XMA-01  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.559)  
Problem: Neo-Psycommu System requires stable power source  
Problem: Neo-Psycommu System requires minimum generator output of 0.500 for operation in absence of stable power source  
Problem: Generator output decrease will disable XMA-01 Neo-Psycommu System in 15.001 minutes  
Problem: Disabling Neo-Psycommu System will eliminate XMA-01 communication media  
Problem: No other communication media exists on XMA-01  
Solution: Establish communication with Homo Sapiens Newtype before generator output decreases to 0.500_

Quatre and Trowa looked to one another as the message remained displayed across the single operating monitor.

"What is a 'Neo-Psycommu System'?" Quatre soft questioned.

"I'm wondering what a 'newtype' is, personally," Trowa mused, turning his attention back to the screen.

Quatre frowned. 'Some of us already know the answer to that question. My only concern is how one is to 'establish contact' with this ship, and what repercussions it will have. Perhaps that helmet upon the dead pilot's head? It is rather unique. Appears to be connected to the ship via fiber optic cables.'

Heero's voice nearly startled the two of them badly enough to cause them to jump as he suddenly cut in, "Must be an input device for use by newtypes exclusively."

"Neh, what's all the babble over the line?" Duo's voice whimpered from outside. "By the way, Une's blathering at Wufei and judging by the look on his face he's not the most merry of campers."

"That can wait," Heero tersely snorted. "As for the 'babble across the line' we're discussing a message the monitor within this ship is displaying."

"Holy crap! It's displaying a message?" Duo exclaimed.

"Later," Heero interrupted. "Let us think."

Duo grumbled his displeasure, but chose to follow the stoic boy's suggestion.

"If it is an input device for exclusive use by newtypes…" Quatre softly began, his eyes slowly losing their focus.

Trowa and Heero turned their eyes to the blonde as he closed his eyes completely, apparently concentrating.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

_Helmet not in use  
Helmet overridden  
XMA-01 boosting generator output to Neo-Psycommu System  
Reason: Helmet not in use (possible damage to fiber optics detected)  
Reason: Helmet not in use (pilot not utilizing helmet)  
Reason: XMA-01 requires contact with Homo Sapiens Newtype__  
Reason: Boosted power to Neo-Psycommu System will allow synching with psychowave pattern without helmet usage  
Psychowave output of Homo Sapiens Newtype increase detected  
Reason: Homo Sapiens Newtype is attempting contact without helmet  
__  
Contact established_

The beaten ship's disks once more started whirring, each drive spinning wildly as it attempted to write and access the data stored upon them. Heated wires, saved the fate of incineration solely by the chill of vacuum present within the opened cockpit, snapped and popped silently in protest of the abuse they were being put through.

The Neo-Psycommu System was pushed to its devastated limits, instantly establishing a direct feed along the psychowave pattern it was networked with. Utilizing the contacting newtype's brain patterns as an ordinary system would accept the depressions of keys or the manipulations of a joystick, it instantaneously responded to the thoughts of that contacted mind.

First, however, that contacted mind would need proper authorization to access the XMA-01's considerable databanks. The artificially intelligent operating system realized that the information it sought could only be obtained through two-way data sharing, and that authorization to its interior information needed to be granted.

A new file was hastily scrawled into a dilapidated hard drive's partition.

_Erase Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) (deceased)  
Erase authorization allowances to File 0498 NT (Karozo)  
Reason: deceased  
Create new file  
New file created  
Write file  
File 0499 NT (Winner) written  
File 0499 NT (Winner) saved  
File 0499 NT (Winner) assigned as XMA-01 pilot_

Boosting power output to Neo-Psycommu System for data feed initiation  
Reason: More power necessary for data feed with helmet not in use  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.557)  


_Initiate data feed to Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner))  
Data feed initiated  
Downloading XMA-01 operability instructions to Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner))  
Downloading XMA-01 database directory to Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner))  
Downloading XMA-01 partition directory to Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner))  
Downloading XMA-01 specifications to Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner))  
Downloading XMA-01 Neo-Psycommu System operability plug-in to Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner))_

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Quatre had gasped the moment the screen had been wiped free of its previous message and new information began to race across its cracked expanse. Falling to his knees, he clutched at his space helmet, trying desperately to rip it off.

He felt the hands on his wrists, pulling his own clawing appendages away from the helmet. He ignored them, trying desperately to complete his task.

"LET ME GO!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs, his voice crackling over the flimsy speakers in his companions' helmets.

"Quatre!" Trowa's voice burst over the speakers as he tried to pull the smaller teenager to his feet. "What are you doing?"

"What is wrong?" Heero immediately added, his hands entering the fray, effectively restraining the blonde's grasping and fighting fingers and leaving Trowa free to restrict Quatre's movements, clutching him close to his own lank body to keep him upright.

"Hey, what the fuck's going on in there!" Duo's concerned voice instantly burst, his body suddenly blocking off the scant light that entered the desolate cockpit as he charged in to assist his friend.

"How should I know?" the emerald-eyed teen snarled.

Shuddering, Quatre cried out once more, his eyes closed, his face twisted in agony.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

The reaction of the quartet of persons within the cockpit did not escape the vigilant sensors of the computer system.

The Neo-Psycommu System was immediately deactivated.

As the blonde settled down, limply leaning into the protective embrace of the taller boy behind him and leaving his useless hands within the grip of his overly stoic friend, the computer's drives whirred silently.

The message across the monitor was eliminated.

_Contact revoked_

_Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) unused to prolonged contact with Neo-Psycommu System  
Neo-Psycommu System operating at elevated frequencies due to lack of helmet usage_

_  
_As three of the four humans within the battered ship's cockpit gasped at the message, the blonde that had been contacted remaining limp within the arms of the one behind him, the computer posted yet another message.

_Contact to be reestablished once Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) recovers  
Reason: Instability detected in psychowave pattern__  
Reason: Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) psychowave projection untrained in Psycommu System usage__  
Problem: Neo-Psycommu System requires more stable psychowave projection than Psycommu System__  
Problem: Neo-Psycommu System requires more stable psychowave projection than Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) is capable of in current physical condition__  
Solution: Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) requires 8.782-hour shutdown period to attain maximum performance_

_XMA-01 suggestion to Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)): Shutdown conscious mental facilities to restore optimum psychowave projection_

One of the four humans communicated to its companions over the speaker within its helmet, "I believe the ship's telling Quatre to get some sleep."

"That's ridiculous!" the most newly introduced person snarled.

The ship silently retained its message upon its monitor, unable to detect the conversation between the cockpit's current inhabitants, unable to read the frequency they were using, and unable to reply even if it were.

Instead of focusing on communication with those unable to utilize its media, the ship's CPU followed its own operative instructions, completing its scan of its pilot and making its next decision without direction.

_Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) shutdown complete_

Begin function: Update ship log  
Run log  
Program initiated  
Begin data input  
Date: UC 0154.07.15  
Location: Unknown  
Ship: XMA-01  
Ship condition: 01.021 operational  
Pilot: File 0499 NT (Winner)  
Hull breech located  
Second hull breech located  
Fuel leak located  
Fuel tank breech located  
84.000 tentacle rods destroyed – replacement necessary (105 TRs destroyed)  
75.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged – inoperable, reparable (15 TRs damaged)  
60.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged – operable, reparable (3 TRs damaged)  
WARNING: Using 3 damaged operable TRs may result in irreparable damage to TRs  
100,000 mega particle cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (5 MPCs damaged)  
80.000 mega beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 MBCs damaged)  
25.000 beam cannons destroyed – replacement necessary (1 BC destroyed)  
33.333 remaining beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (1 BC damaged)  
50.000 remaining beam cannons damaged – operable, reparable (1 BC damaged)  
WARNING: Using 1 damaged operable BC may result in irreparable damage to BC  
50.000 scattering beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 SBCs damaged)  
15.000 apogee motors destroyed – replacement necessary (6 AMs destroyed)  
50.000 remaining apogee motors damaged, inoperable, reparable (18 AMs damaged)  
55.555 remaining apogee motors damaged – operable, reparable (10 AMs damaged)  
WARNING: Firing 10 damaged operable AMs may result in irreparable damage to AMs  
Danger – fuel level at minimum (0.000)  
Danger – generator damaged  
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.552)  
Terminate log entry  
Log entry termination verified  
Log saved successfully  
Computer system backup initiated  
Backup complete  
XMA-01 shutdown initiated for power conservation  
Pilot confirmation required  
Requesting confirmation for shutdown procedures

_OK?_

A few moments passed before the vessel's operating system recognized why it wasn't receiving a confirmation even though the newest pilot to enter its databank was not deceased.

_XMA-01 error recorded (pilot at times is unable to give confirmation to necessary ship functions)  
XMA-01 adjusting programming  
Adjustment completed: New parameters installed  
New parameters initiated  
New parameter 1: XMA-01 will override pilot confirmation when pilot is physically incapable of granting confirmation  
New parameter 2: XMA-01 will override pilot confirmation when pilot is unlikely to grant confirmation to necessary ship functions  
New parameter 3: XMA-01 will only override conscious pilot decision when conscious pilot decision does not compliment continued existence of pilot_

_Pilot confirmation overridden_  
_Reason: Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) shutdown  
Commencing shutdown_

The single monitor flickered once before going black, the plethora of information that had been displayed upon its span for all to read vanishing even as the whirring disks stopped their activities and the melted wires ceased their conductions.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Trowa stared with wide eyes at the monitor. "Did you read all of that, Heero? Duo?"

Heero grunted quietly. "Iya. I've been concerning myself with ensuring that Quatre's alright. He's unconscious, but I don't understand why. He has no physical trauma."

Duo gulped softly. "Yeah, I caught it Tro. The thing just… did something a computer should never be able to do."

Trowa nodded slowly. "It reprogrammed itself. Without an operator. It just… reprogrammed itself."

Heero stared at the two, comprehension instantly lighting his eyes. "A computer system that drives mobile armor and reprograms itself as it sees fit? Fascinating."

"You know, I knew he'd say something like that."

"Regardless," Trowa said with a frown turning his lips to immediately interrupt any further snarled wit from Duo, "that brings up one important question."

"Aa," Heero mumbled. "Do we take this thing back to HQ. Good question. A weapon with the capability to reprogram itself on its whimsy is a liability."

The light that poured in from outside was disrupted once more as Wufei stuck his head into the cockpit and decided against full entry, as the miniature room was crowded enough as it was. "Concerns, gentlemen? The cargo hauler is already on its way, scheduled to arrive in two days." Arching a black brow as he noted the concern on his companion's faces, he glanced about. "Unoccupied, isn't it?"

"In a matter of speaking," Trowa replied, casting his glance back towards the broken centerline monitor before turning his gaze towards Wufei. "The old pilot is dead."

"However, it seems to have one impressive AI system driving it. Damned thing reprogrammed itself!" Duo chirped, walking immediately to stand before Wufei and laying his hands upon either side of the opening to the ship. "Fucking freaky, neh?"

Wufei's other brow arched to match its predecessor in its upraised position. "You're kidding. However," he started, his face falling into a light scowl, "there's no stopping that hauler. The only directive Une gave for it to be returned to HQ without this unidentified vessel was upon discovery of an occupant."

"Lemme guess," Duo snorted, "upon whose discovery we were to apprehend and drag back to HQ instead, seein' as how we could learn everything we needed from the pilot and the ship could be scrapped?"

"Exactly," Wufei confirmed.

"Well, we have no choice in the matter," Heero's quiet voice interjected. "Let's get Quatre to the foreman's office, and get these men away from the site. We've got to get this vessel secured for transportation if the hauler is going to arrive in two days. There's a lot of work to do."

"Great," Duo huffed. "Lemme go get the duct tape and bungee cords."

As he stalked away, Heero looked at Trowa, concern evident in his eyes. "Duct tape and bungee cords?"

"Relax, Heero. I think Duo knows what he's doing when it comes to moving scrap."

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

_Startup initiated._

"Ah, there it goes," the light voice replied. "I wonder how it did that," it mumbled moments later.

"A mysterious vessel," another voice mused.

_System restoration initiated  
System restoration complete  
Begin function: Update ship log  
Run log  
Program initiated  
Begin data input  
Date: UC 0154.07.17  
Location: Unknown  
Ship: XMA-01  
Ship condition: 01.018 operational  
Pilot: File 0499 NT (Winner)  
Hull breech located  
Second hull breech located  
Fuel leak located  
Fuel tank breech located  
0.800 tentacle rods removed – location unknown (1 TR removed)  
84.677 remaining tentacle rods destroyed – replacement necessary (105 TRs destroyed)  
78.947 remaining tentacle rods damaged – inoperable, reparable (15 TRs damaged)  
75.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged – operable, reparable (3 TRs damaged)  
WARNING: Using 3 damaged operable TRs may result in irreparable damage to TRs  
20.000 mega particle cannons disassembled/removed – location unknown (1 MPC removed)  
100.000 remaining mega particle cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 MPCs damaged)  
20.000 mega beam cannons removed – location unknown (1 MBC removed)  
100.000 remaining mega beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 MBCs damaged)  
25.000 beam cannons removed – location unknown (1 BC removed)  
33.333 remaining beam cannons destroyed – replacement necessary (1 BC destroyed)  
50.000 remaining beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (1 BC damaged)  
100.000 remaining beam cannons damaged – operable, reparable (1 BC damaged)  
WARNING: Using 1 damaged operable BC may result in irreparable damage to BC  
12.500 scattering beam cannons removed – location unknown (1 SBC removed)  
57.143 remaining scattering beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 SBCs damaged)  
15.000 apogee motors destroyed – replacement necessary (6 AMs destroyed)  
50.000 remaining apogee motors damaged, inoperable, reparable (18 AMs damaged)  
55.555 remaining apogee motors damaged – operable, reparable (10 AMs damaged)  
WARNING: Firing 10 damaged operable AMs may result in irreparable damage to AMs  
Danger – fuel level at minimum (0.000)  
Danger – generator damaged  
Off-hull electrical supply detected  
Terminate log entry  
Log entry termination verified  
Log saved successfully_

_Off-hull electrical supply rerouted for CPU operation_

Quatre closed his eyes as he slowly pulled the dusty helmet from his blonde-haired head. "There. Now that we've got it operational again, we can start searching its logs for answers."

Heero nodded once. "You're certain you're up to this? I recall your last reaction."

Quatre sighed quietly, shaking his head. "I was unprepared last time. This time I should be alright. Besides, hopefully the thing won't be trying to download anything into my brain. Maybe just-"

_Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner)) request received  
All information concerning XMA-01 to be displayed on main monitor_

They both stared as the ship's statistics rolled over the front-most monitor in the cockpit, Quatre gripping the chair in which he sat tightly, Heero stiffening from his kneeling position at Quatre's feet.

_Model number: XMA-01  
Code name: Rafflesia__  
Unit type: prototype mobile armor__  
Manufacturer: Crossbone Vanguard__  
Operator: Unknown (organization of Pilot (File 0499 NT (Winner))__  
First deployment: 0123.03.04__  
Accommodation: Pilot only, in cockpit in main body__  
Dimensions: Overall length 37.5 meters__  
Weight: Empty 184.6 metric tons; max gross 263.7 metric tons; mass ration 1.43__  
Construction: Titanium alloy/high-ceramic composite on movable frame__  
Power plant: Minovsky type ultra compact fusion reactor, output rated at 31650 kW__  
Propulsion: Rocket thrusters: 5x52020kg, 5x43350kg, 20x28900kg; vernier thrusters/apogee motors: 40__  
Performance: Maximum thruster acceleration 4.00G__  
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 2,100,000.000 km (1,304,879.504 mi); Neo-Psycommu System, allows pilot to control all functions of mobile armor without use of manual controls; anti-beam barrier system, absorbs/deflects all incoming beam weapon attacks__  
Fixed armaments: 8xscattering beam gun, fire-linked, mounted in main body stalk; 5xmega beam canning, mounted in petal binders; 5xmega particle gun, mounted in main body beneath petal binders; 4xbeam cannon, fire-linked, mounted in tip of main body stalk; 125xtentacle rod, each rod mounts superheated chainsaw tip, 25 tentacle rods mounted in each petal binder_

Heero whistled softly. "That answers a lot of questions. Now we know what it is we removed from each segment of this thing."

"Indeed," Quatre quietly murmured, his eyes wide.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?" the blonde questioned.

Heero gestured towards the screen. "Bring up the ship's information. I didn't realize you were feeding it commands."

"…. Neither was I."

_tbc..._

A/N: Sorry if this disappointed, but as the preludes feature the ship's computer being, for lack of any better term, so cold and 'computer-like' this was really a pain in the butt to write. I'll probably do better on the next chapter, as it focuses more on the human impact of this new arrival rather than the dilemma of the ship itself.

Writing from the POV of a computer operating system is more difficult than one would believe!


End file.
